Rectitude
by Hudly
Summary: When one's life is full of sorrow and grief, it takes the rectitude of himself and that of his friends to continue on. While this internal struggle rages, the onslaught of evil progresses further, watching, and waiting.
1. Harry's Worst Fear

**:Rectitude:**

**  
:Chapter One:**

**:Harry's Worst Fear:**

* * *

_  
He knew that he was here. He could sense his presence. He knew what he had to do. He had heard the prophecy. He had to kill Voldemort._

_He had been running through the dungeon for ten minutes now, still without any resistance, any acknowledgment, any sign of life, particularly that of Voldemort. It was unnerving to say the least. He had checked every door that he had come across, blasting them open with a powerful Reducto curse, only to burst back out with no more idea of where Voldemort was than before entering the room. After ten more minutes of searching, he came across a dark corridor that seemed to stretch for miles. He knew this was the right way. It had to be._

_As he started down the corridor, Harry took his wand out and yelled, "Lumos," before he was engulfed in the encroaching darkness. Not fazed by the foreboding, palpable darkness, Harry rushed onward, hoping and praying that he would find Voldemort. His prayers were answered... despite the strange nagging feeling he felt tickle the back of his mind. Up ahead was a door, but not just any door, a door with someone inside the room the door guarded. The light filtering through the cracks of the door had tipped him off of what was behind the door; who was waiting behind the door's old, feeble wood. Voldemort was inside, waiting for Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One. Harry was ready. He was destined to be ready. He had to be ready, or else the world would fall into a nearly corporeal darkness. The wizarding world and the Muggle world. This battle was for all of mankind, not just for pure-blood wizards. This was for **life**._

_"Nox," Harry whispered, making sure not to alert the occupants of the next room to his presence._

_Harry reached out for the door, absently noting the trail of fresh blood giving off a crimson glow in the flickering torch light escaping from below the door. Reaching for the doorknob, then realizing that the doorknob that may have once been had long since passed, put his hand flat against the door, feeling a slight warmth permeating the thin wooden barrier. Gathering his nerves, he pushed the door open slowly, trying to be completely silent. When the door was halfway open, he forgot his mission, forgot his reasons, forgot the prophecy, forgot the attempt of silence, forgot everything that had ever happened to him prior to this moment. All he felt was pain. Horrible, piercing pain, making him sick beyond what he had ever experienced._

_'I have to run! I have to run! I have to run! I have to run!' he thought franticly, trying to run. Not run away, but forward. Forward to the figure on the floor. He knew it was too late, but he had to run. He had to be sure._

_In what had seemed like an eternity, but was merely a second, Harry dashed toward the limp figure five yards in front of him. Eyes following the trail of blood that he had mindlessly noted outside the door as he ran as fast as he could toward the figure still lying motionless ahead of him. In what seemed like another eternity to Harry, he reached the figure that he considered his biggest fear. Tears streaming down his face, falling into the fresh blood pooled around the figure like a steady flow of diamonds falling into a sea of rubies, Harry began turning the figure toward him. He already knew. But he **had** to be sure._

_With a scream of agony, he threw himself backward, turned his back to the red haired boy who had an empty look in his once vibrant blue eyes. Ron was dead._

_Harry collapsed onto the floor, his face landing in the trail of blood leading to his dead friend. He could smell the death in the room, if not from the previous deaths that had undoubtedly occurred in this dungeon's past, then from the fresh blood inches from his face. He felt sick. He could feel the warm bile rising, threatening to over take him in a acidic heave. He couldn't hold it back anymore. He let out a faint, rasping cough, followed by the uncomely sound of rather thick liquid hitting a stone floor._

_He had to move. He couldn't stay here and let him get away with this. Voldemort would suffer for this. He would pay._

_"I WILL KILL YOU! I WILL FIND YOU! I WILL MAKE YOU WISH YOU NEVER HAD BEEN BORN!" He screamed as tears began freshly pouring down his somber face. His pale skin seeming to grow paler by the second, despite the warm fire light in the room._

_After fulminating his thoughts about his merciless enemy, he heard a sound that lightened his heart._

_"Harry?" an almost inaudible voice called out of a dark corner._

_Harry ran toward the corner as he took out his wand again._

_Harry was now noticing how expansive the room was as he hurried to the dark corner to the right of Ron's body. He knew the voice that called out to him. He didn't hesitate to have some hope, knowing that she was still alive, still here for his sanity. As he closed in he heard the sound of violent sobbing. She had been hurt, and she knew about Ron. He could hear her shallow breathing as she continued sobbing to a melancholy rhythm that scared him, but still gave him hope that she was still alive. He increased his pace, thinking this impossible as his legs were already near collapse. He reached the corner of the dungeon, seeing the silhouette of the person he knew would be slumped against the wall. He slowly lifted his wand, "Lum-"_

_"No! Please..." she rasped._

_"Hermione, please! It's okay. I won't let him hurt you anymore!"_

_"No, Harry! I wont let you see me like this... no one should ever see me again... I've done enough to the ones I love. I don't wont to hurt you," she said lightly, seemingly choking on her own tears._

_"Don't say that! I don't care what you look like! I don't care about anything except to know if I leave you here, that you wont die! Now let me see!" Harry yelled, regretting it almost immediately when she whimpered in a tone that he had never heard from her in his entire life._

_"You should kill me! I don't deserve to live anymore! I can never go back! I don't want to go back!" she retorted, sounding like she had only moments to live no matter what happened._

_"Not after what I did..." she added precariously, in a whisper._

_"You couldn't do anything that would make you not want to live. I know you Hermione. You wouldn't hurt anyone unless they deserved it. You wouldn't do anything to those who you care about." he replied, almost authoritatively._

_"I - I - I -" she choked out._

_"What, Hermione?" said Harry, interrupting her._

_"I killed Ron!" she cried._

_"LUMOS!" Harry screamed, thinking that she was hurt too badly to be alone, and because he wanted to know what condition she was in after the horrible information was divulged._

_Harry gasped. He knew she was hurt when he heard her sobbing but he never expected this. He would never even dream of the kind of torture that he saw Hermione show signs of. Her face was bruised severely, the startling effect heightened by her entirely drenched face. She had been crying for hours and hours. Her clothes were wet with tears. Her hair was cut to a shorter length, but not all of it was level, as it seemed someone took a knife and cut down her hair randomly, making it look as though she were nothing but a homeless girl that had been picked off the streets of London. That's when Harry noticed her arms. Harry started crying again; crying for his last friend, who was tortured and used like no other. Voldemort had carved the Dark Mark into her left wrist with a knife. It was still dripping blood. He knew why she was here in the corner. Why she had the Dark Mark carved into her flesh: she had killed Ron, but with no volition of her own._

_"He made you kill Ron under the Imperius curse," He said, in a tone that was on the fringe of pure hatred and matter-of-factly, making Hermione cry even harder; making her shallow breaths seem even feebler than before._

_"I'm sorry, Hermione. I should have been here. I would have stopped him from-" he stopped suddenly, seeing the fear in Hermione's brown eyes swell. He saw the unpronounced fear; the tensing of her entire being as he heard footsteps behind him._

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!" bellowed a voice from behind him._

_Harry turned his head just in time to see a jet of bright green light pass his face, streaking toward the wall behind him. He knew what Voldemort had done. He wasn't aiming for Harry, but for the beaten and battered girl in the corner. Harry knew why Voldemort had lured him here. This was where Harry was going to die. With or without the Dark Lord no one knew, but he knew that even after killing Voldemort, the hole left inside him was too great to conquer, and he would die because of it. He could feel the insatiable ache already: wanting revenge, wanting to torture the Dark Lord, wanting to make him suffer for eternity, wanting himself to die, to just give up and let death take him away from his own suffering. He was condemned to a life of suffering, and he had had enough._

_"Do it." He said calmly. "I've had enough."_

_"Oh? Resigned to your fate already, Harry?" Voldemort replied in his chilling voice, his crimson eyes sparkling with glee._

_"I don't care anymore. There's nothing in my life worth living anymore; I don't want to ." he retorted._

_"Well, if you are so quick to die, I suppose I wont stop you." said Voldemort coldly. _

_"I would have tortured you before the end, but I think I've delayed your demise for too long to let this opportunity pass up."_

_Harry tensed. He was going to face off against Voldemort. He would run and attack Voldemort while he was too focused on the ease of his curse._

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!" bellowed Voldemort once more as a green bolt of light shot straight toward Harry._

_'Now!' thought Harry, diving to the left._

_Voldemort's curse missed Harry, and Harry bolted upright, pointing his wand at Voldemort._

_"Reducto!" cried Harry._

_At the same time, Voldemort pointed his wand at Hermione's motionless body and said, "Accio Mudblood!" summoning Hermione's body in front of him as the Reducto curse hurtled toward him._

_Harry cried out as his curse hit Hermione's body in the stomach, ripping apart the clothes and flesh of his friend's body._

_"NOOO! NOOOOO!" Harry screamed._

_"HOW DARE YOU! I WILL KILL YOU! SHE DESERVED BETTER THAN THAT!" Harry shrieked, shaking with rage as his sanity began cracking._

_Voldemort cackled._

_While Harry was screaming for his friend, Voldemort had taken the opportunity to come wand-to-face with Harry._

_"She was nothing more than a Mudblood! Will you see her in death? Perhaps," boomed Voldemort. _

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!" yelled Voldemort._

_The last thing Harry saw was a bright, ominous green flash. He was left floating in darkness._

_Alone._

* * *

"NO!" Harry yelled as he leaned straight up in his bed. He was covered in cold, icy sweat, and his breathing was shallow and rasping. 

'Only a dream,' He kept repeating in his mind, like a calming mantra that soothed his mind and heart as his mind continued to replay what his dream entailed. His heart was beating fast, becoming louder every second, sounding like a muffled drum waiting to escape from his body.

He was still in his bed at number 4 Privet Drive. Still away from school for the summer holiday. Still alive. Still had his friends. He began to catch his breath, steadying himself while he shook uncontrollably. He got up and stumbled toward the door of his bedroom. He was sick. He had to get to the bathroom before he collapsed onto the floor and lost his resolve.

After stumbling blindly through the Dursley's hallway, Harry made it to the bathroom. He flipped the light on and hurried to the toilet before he let go. He fell down in front of the toilet, grasping it with his shaking hands, then unleashing the torrent of bile that had been rising since his dream ended.

Harry had never felt so bad in his life. He couldn't break away from the dream. He still wished he was dead. He could still hear Voldemort's evil laughter, watching as Hermione collapsed in the corner, her eyes lifeless and empty, giving Harry an accusing stare. He tensed again, vomiting once more into the malodorous toilet. The image of Hermione's body been shredded by his own attack burnt into his eyes. Suddenly the door burst open, showing a very disgruntled Uncle Vernon, his face turning a brilliant purple already.

"What is wrong with you, boy? You've been throwing up like this for the last nine days since you came back from... you-know-where!" growled Uncle Vernon.

"It's nothing." replied Harry, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"It doesn't sound like nothing, boy! I hear you almost every night, screaming in the night, calling out for whoever you're calling out for. It's worse than the noise your ruddy owl makes in the night!" bellowed Uncle Vernon.

"You better not have brought back some sort of illness from your... world, boy. If one of _us_ catches something from you, you'll have hell to pay. I will not get sick with some _freak_ disease!" said Uncle Vernon ostentatiously, clearly clinging to his belief that anything not normal was was a waste of time, not to mention bad, foul, worthless, and so on.

"Yeah, that's all that it is, just some freak disease. You don't have to worry about catching it since you're not a freak," replied Harry sardonically, which was obviously not recognized by his uncle.

"Well, good," replied Uncle Vernon with an almost happy gleam in his eyes.

"Now get back to bed," said Uncle Vernon. "_Quietly_!" he added sternly.

As Harry's uncle left the room, Harry caught a glimpse of his uncle's pajamas; the same color as Ron's resplendently red hair. This reminded Harry of his dream once again, and he vomited into the toilet for a third time. Then a fourth. After the sixth time, the bile finally relented, letting go of the tremulous boy. After steadying his breathing, Harry sat up, flushed the toilet, and went for the sink so he could wash his face. His face was pale and sullen, with large dark spots under his eyes; his eyes red and raw from his intense crying during his dream. He turned the warm water on and splashed his face with it a few times, feeling a small amount of relief.

As he went back to his room, he decided to write Ron and Hermione. He was going crazy from boredom... among other things. He needed to talk to them both. He wasn't going to mention the dreams though... no one would ever know of them. They hurt to much to even think about. Thinking about thinking about them hurt. Even thinking about dreams in general made his heart ache with a stinging pain. They wouldn't have to know. He'd make sure they didn't. The only thing that comforted him about his dreams was the lack of pain in his scar. As long as that never happened... they were still just dreams...

* * *

After what seemed like hours, Harry rolled up the parchments he had been tirelessly scribbling on and affixed them to Hedwig's leg. Harry rose out of his chair and went silently toward his window. He opened the window smoothly, letting the pleasant summer breeze calm him before going back over to Hedwig. 

"Take these to Ron and Hermione, girl. Go to whoever is closest first. Come back when they've both received them," said Harry softly.

Hedwig gently cooed in return, then turned away from Harry and flew out the window.

'Have a safe trip, Hedwig,' thought Harry as he walked over to his bed and collapsed on top of his blanket. He was asleep before he even hit the mattress.


	2. To The Burrow

(**A/N**): sigh Well, I finally got around to posting this chapter. After all the delays, all the writers block, all the plot offshoots I've concocted, all the changed decisions about how this story should be portrayed, how I was going to make this story _different_, how to continue to write the chapters at a constant pace without losing the quality I want with my writing, and the insufferable perfectionism I force onto myself, I'm finally getting my fingers to strike keys and make sentences. I hope to update this as much as possible. I can't believe how long I've put it off. I'm going to go cry while I belittle myself for being too lazy.

I've changed the rating of this story from M to T. This story **_IS NOT_** going to be up to the rating of M by my hand. There is no chance it will get that descriptive or grotesque. See my profile for more in-depth info about this story.

_**Disclaimer: **I own zero (0) rights to any of the Harry Potter books, characters, locations, and any other thing that I have decided to torture (fear not faint of heart, I merely mean this from a I'm-going-to-screw-up-'cause-I'm-human stand-point, it's not like I'm writing this just to torture Harry Potter characters) from the Harry Potter universe. Joanne K. Rowling owns those rights._

* * *

**:Rectitude:**

**:Chapter Two:**

**:To The Burrow:**

* * *

Voldemort was growing impatient. Wormtail had been gone for nearly two weeks. 

After his appearance at the Ministry of Magic, he had decided to lie low, not wanting to lose too many resources this early in the war. That is if you could call it a war. The Ministry had done next to nothing to hinder Voldemort's efforts. He, however, had planned his second coming ever since his failure to procure the Philosopher's Stone. The wheel had begun turning since he returned to his body, nearly as powerful as before. He then proceeded to gather his followers. He was disappointed with the outcome when he called the Death Eaters to the graveyard. But, now he had enough to begin open recruitment, even with those that were captured at the Department of Mysteries absent for the time being.

While Voldemort was pondering the progress he had made so far, there was a light knock on the door.

"Enter," said Voldemort.

"Master, I have returned."

"Good, Wormtail, very good."

Wormtail approached his master, handing him an ornate golden box.

"You best pray that you found the keys," said Voldemort in a tone that could chill even the most evil people to the bone.

"N-n-no, my lord, I h-h-h-have f-f-failed to find the keys," said Wormtail, apprehension in his voice.

"Crucio!" yelled Voldemort. Wormtail fell the the ground, convulsing and screaming.

"Did I not tell you to come back only if you had found the chest and the keys? Did I not warn you what the consequences would be?" roared Voldemort, still holding the curse to Wormtail.

After a few more seconds, Voldemort relented his hold on Wormtail. Wormtail was lying there, still convulsing, but the screaming had stopped.

"M-my lord, I know where they are! But I could not retrieve them. Dumbledore has one, the boy has one, and the other I could not touch, for it was guarded by a strong magic." squeaked Wormtail.

Releasing an audible growl, Voldemort turned his back to Wormtail.

"I will forgive you for now... you _did _acquire the chest, and that is good. Leave my presence before I change my mind. Do _not _fail me again, Wormtail."

"Y-y-yes, my lord," said Wormtail as he scampered out of the Dark Lord's chamber.

Voldemort began smiling toward the doorway Wormtail had just scampered through, though to an objective observer, it was only a small change in his lips.

"Soon I will have the keys. It is only a matter of time."

* * *

Harry was checking his school trunk to make sure he had packed everything. He couldn't hold back his excitement. He'd been like this for nearly two weeks. He even smiled when the Dursley's told him to do all of the chores. That had upset them even more than if he hadn't done the chores. 

Even Harry's bad dreams hadn't deterred his happiness. In a strange way, they increased his happiness. He'd be able to see his friends; to see them safe. He hadn't wanted something this bad for a long time.

The last string of dreams had been horrible. His only comfort was the lack of scar pain. He had to hold onto that hope. It was the only way he was going to survive the time he had to wait.

He was to leave number 4 Privet Drive tonight. He had written to Ron and Hermione, and asked if they wanted to stay at the Burrow for the rest of the summer, but told them that he, Harry, had to stay four more weeks with his aunt, uncle, and nephew. He didn't know what they would say. He thought too many things had changed since that night at the Department of Mysteries. He feared that Hermione secretly despised him for jeopardizing her life, and that Ron would feel the same way as Hermione. Harry knew that the last blow to his mind would be to lose his friends, either through death, or through their revulsion of him.

It was now his worst fear, loneliness. No, loneliness wasn't severe enough. It was deeper and more hurtful than something as meager as loneliness. It was sheer despair; inconsolable despondency. He was, for the first time in his life, alone. Wholly alone. He wanted to scream. He felt hopeless.

A shrill honk broke Harry out of his reverie. He dashed over to his window and glanced outside to the drive. His face broke into a gleaming smile. There was a dark green car in the drive, its windshield wipers flapping rhythmically back and forth.. Although Harry had never seen it before, he recognized with whom it belonged. As he was thinking this, the passenger side door opened to reveal a bushy haired girl. Harry instantly recognized the brown hair and brown eyes as Hermione.

After receiving the initial replies from his friends, Harry had become ecstatic. Ron said that it was okay for both of them to come over for the rest of the summer, and Hermione had replied back saying she would come, and to make it easier for Harry, would ask her parents to pick him up, then go to London and drop Hermione and Harry off at the Leaky Cauldron so they could floo to the Burrow. That would make the departure from the Dursley's easy, compared to the fiasco that happened when Harry was to go with the Weasley's to the Quidditch World Cup before his fourth year. Thinking of that incident brought another smile to his face as he gathered the rest of his things and stuffed them into his trunk.

He picked up Hedwig's cage, and hoisted his trunk up so he could carry it easier (he was glad he put that lightening charm on his trunk before he left Hogwarts). Taking as little time as possible, he marched down the stairs, his warm smile still plastered to his face. When he reached the step before the last, the door bell rang.

Aunt Petunia walked out of the kitchen towards the front door, holding her head up slightly, making her seem like a human giraffe. When she noticed Harry standing at the bottom of the stairs, she cast him a stony glare. She reached for the door and opened it to see a girl smiling at her.

"Is Harry here?" asked the girl, startling Aunt Petunia.

"Er... yes, he is here," replied Harry's aunt.

Harry emerged from the staircase and went to the door. He saw Hermione and smiled at her as she returned his gesture.

"I"m all packed up and ready to go, Hermione," Harry said, ignoring his aunt.

"Aunt Petunia, I'm going to be gone for the rest of the summer. I wont be back until school is out next year," Harry said to his aunt, "Have a good day," he concluded, turning around to face Hermione and promptly walked out the door.

"That went rather well, don't you think?" Harry asked Hermione, smirking mischievously as they walked to the Granger's car.

"Eh... sure," Hermione replied, trying to hide her amused grin.

As they reached the car, Hermione took Harry's hand and dragged him to the driver side.

"Harry, this is my mother," said Hermione, smiling.

"Hello, Mrs. Granger," Harry said, giving a healthy smile.

"Ah, you must be Harry. It's very nice to finally meet one of the boys that my daughter can't stop talking about," said Mrs. Granger, giving Harry a welcoming smile in return.

"I'm sure she's told you about how much trouble I get into," Harry said, his smile brightening.

"Honestly, Harry, you'd think that you're always in trouble. Most of the school year you're out of trouble, I'll have you know," said Hermione with faked indignation.

Harry laughed. Harry then thought that it was a good feeling to laugh. He had almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Well, err... I suppose that you know where we need to go now," Harry said to Mrs. Granger as his face began to redden, feeling a blush creeping its ugly head to Harry's own head. He wasn't really sure why he felt embarrassed, though.

Not waiting for a reply from Mrs. Granger, Harry went to go to the passenger side, then stopped suddenly, remembering his manners, then went and opened the back door for Hermione.

"Oh, Harry, you didn't have to open the door for me," she said, a slight flush creeping up her neck.

"I'd like to believe I have some manners," he said, giving a slight smile as Hermione got into the car. He shut the door, and strode to the other side, opening the back door.

"Oh, what am I supposed to do with my trunk, Mrs. Granger?" Harry asked, remembering he still hadn't put his stuff anywhere yet.

"You can set it down on the front seat, dear," replied Mrs. Granger.

After he heard this, he opened the passenger side door and plopped his trunk onto the seat, making sure not to damage the fine leather that the seat was covered in. He made sure that it wouldn't fall over or slide around, then closed the door, and returned to the back seat, holding Hedwig's cage with Hedwig hooting quietly inside.

"All ready?" Mrs. Granger asked Harry. He nodded to her.

"Alright, let's get a move on then," she said as she took the car out of park and began driving down the lane.

* * *

After half an hour of what Harry would call an uncomfortable conversation with Hermione and her mother, they finally arrived in London. A few minutes later, Mrs. Granger stopped the car where she remembered the Leaky Cauldron was at. She asked Harry and Hermione if this was the right place, and they both nodded. 

"Well, I know you two will be fine from here. I have to get back home. I've got some early appointments at the practice tomorrow. Not easy appointments, either," said Mrs. Granger.

"Get your stuff and I hope to see you both after school is out," she said, looking slightly sad. "In fact, why don't you come home with us for Christmas break, Harry. My husband and I would love to have you over, and I'm sure Hermione would enjoy having a friend with her during the holidays," she said as her face started to brighten.

"Well--uh--I... don't know what to say," Harry said, his voice lit with surprise. "I'll... um... Sure. I'll do just that," he said, then added, "Unless my plans... change," startling even himself with how cold his voice sounded.

"Well, good. I hope to see you then, Harry. It was very nice meeting you," she said as she smiled even brighter. Harry could almost see Hermione smiling him at him like that. '_Probably really smart, too,_' thought Harry.

"You two be good at school. Remember to write us, honey. You too, Harry," she said, waving goodbye before she drove off into London's streets.

"I like your mum," Harry said, looking at Hermione with a simper look.

"I think she likes you, too," she replied, smiling back at him. Harry could still see the pain behind her eyes. He didn't know what pain it was. He didn't dare ask. He was too scared of the answer.

"Come on, we should go in. Mr. Weasley is probably waiting for us."

Doing as he was told, Harry took up his trunk and Hedwig's cage, and walked into the Leaky Cauldron with Hermione. They didn't have to look very long to see that Mr. Weasley had not arrived yet.

"Well, let's get something to drink while we wait. I think food would be good too, but Mrs. Weasley probably prepared a feast for us," Harry suggested, walking up to Tom, with Hermione in tow.

"Ah, Harry Potter! What can I get you and your friend on this stormy evening?" said Tom as he noticed Harry and Hermione.

"Two butterbeers, please," said Harry as he gave a small smile to Tom. "On my tab, if you don't mind," he added.

"Not a problem, Mr. Potter," replied Tom as he went to go get two mugs from the bar.

Hermione eyed him strangely, then said, "You have a tab?"

Harry broke a smile, then started chuckling. He looked at her with a strange glint in his eyes and replied, "I do now. Being the famous Boy-Who-Lived has its perks. And I bet Tom likes me, anyway."

"Don't tell Ron. If there is anything he would be jealous of you it would be free food," supplied Hermione, starting to catch the contagious chuckles from Harry.

"Two butterbeers," chimed in Tom, who had just appeared next to the now laughing pair. He shot them a playful smile, then left to go back to the bar.

"Ah, nothing like a butterbeer to calm the nerves. I really need to have some on me at all times," said Harry after taking a hearty gulp from his mug.

"But then you'd be sticky all the time," said Hermione as she lifted her mug to her mouth.

"I know even you aren't _that_ robotic, Hermy," retorted Harry, taking a second gulp from his mug. Harry took on a look of satisfaction when Hermione gave a huff of frustration and her skin tone reddened slightly.

* * *

While Harry and Hermione were sitting down, enjoying their butterbeers, another witch and wizard were sitting a few tables away, watching them. 

"They look like they're okay," said the man.

"Looks can be deceiving, my darling Mr. Shacklebolt," beamed the woman.

"Yes, yes, I know, Tonks," Kingsley Shacklebolt said as he looked at the outrageous getup the woman was currently adorning.

"Any news about Arthur?" asked Tonks.

"He said he'd be here within the next ten minutes," replied Shacklebolt.

"Well, how are the plans at the Burrow going? I haven't been able to see it since they started decorating."

"They got done an hour ago. Now they're waiting for the last few guests to arrive, then for the star of the day to show up. Does Miss Granger know about the plans?"

"Yes. Remus and I told her last week when we visited the Grangers with Dumbledore," cooed Tonks.

"So... what'd you get him?" asked Shacklebolt.

"A framed page from last months Teen Witch Weekly showcasing Harry as the most sought after underage man in the wizarding world. And a protection ring," said Tonks, trying to hide her grin.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate the frame," said Shacklebolt laughing, then adding, "what kind of precious?"

"I found emerald to be appropriate," replied Tonks, smiling.

"Quite," said Shacklebolt.

"What'd you get him?" asked Tonks.

"A nice pair of dragonhide boots and a dragonhide wand holster," said Shacklebolt.

"Ever the practical one, eh, Kingsley?" laughed Tonks.

"Being in Voldemort's physical presence three different times in his life, I thought that the boy could use some security, if only just a little," said Shacklebolt quite seriously.

"I see you've started saying Voldemort's name," said Tonks coolly.

"As have you, Tonks," replied Shacklebolt, sighing. "I thought I'd dare a venture and indulge with risk taking. Turns out there is no risk in saying his name aloud," supplied Shacklebolt with an almost disappointed frown.

"Same," replied Tonks.

As soon as she said that, both she and Shacklebolt saw Arthur Weasley appear in a burst of green flames out of the public floo of the Leaky Cauldron.

"There he is. Let's hurry up and go," exclaimed Tonks as she stood up from her chair and strode to the fireplace.

"Always lets someone else pay the bill," mumbled Shacklebolt as he took four sickles out and placed them on the table, then turned and walked to the fireplace.

"The Burrow," Tonks and Shacklebolt said in unison; their forms were engulfed in a fluorescent green flame.

* * *

"Harry! Hermione!" said Arthur Weasley as he approached the table that they were consuming their second butterbeers on. 

"Mr. Weasley!" they both squealed simultaneously.

"Now, Harry, no need to squeal," said Mr. Weasley playfully. Harry gave a small smile then had a sudden fascination with his shoelaces.

"Mr. Weasley! Have you been taking joke lessons from the twins?" said Hermione, feeling a _little_ sympathetic for Harry. Only a little, though. That 'Hermy' comment would have plenty of retribution.

"Maybe," Mr. Weasley said, giving both of them a brilliant smile, which Harry missed since he was now staring down the enchanted cuckoo clock on the wall behind Hermione _and_ sporting a brilliant blush.

Harry went up behind Hermione and whispered into her ear, "Something's up. He's _too_ happy," said Harry.

"You're just being paranoid, Harry," she whispered back. He shot her a glare.

"Ready to go, you two?" asked Mr. Weasley.

They both checked their trunks, nodded, and proceeded to follow Mr. Weasley to the fireplace.

"Alright, Hermione, you go first. I'll go after you, and you, Harry, can go after both of us. Remember to enunciate clearly," said Mr. Weasley in a authoritative voice.

Hermione stepped toward the fireplace, took a pinch of floo powder from a pot on the right hand side of the mantle, then threw the powder into the fireplace saying, "The Burrow!"

She disappeared in a column of billowing, green flames.

"Okay, me next," said Mr. Weasley as he stepped forward. He did the same as Hermione had done just prior and disappeared in a rush of green flames.

"Here goes," Harry said to himself. He stepped up to the mantle, took his pinch of floo powder, threw it into the fireplace, and said, "The Burrow" clearly and was whisked away by the torrent of green flames.

* * *

**End (A/N):** Well, I've finally got this chapter done, and along with it I've taken out a large wall of writer's block. Yay! Now, I have to write more chapters. Yay! I really enjoy writing this. It's very fun. 

Also, I feel obligated to update my profile. I really need to. I did a _horrible_ job the first time.

I hope anyone who starts reading my story can get ready, because I plan to make this a worthwhile ride. Go to my profile for some more info.


	3. The Best Birthday

**(A/N):** I can't believe it took me this long to finally finish this chapter. I had over half of this chapter done the day I posted Chapter 2. I feel so bad. Well, after this chapter, it's going to be easy sleddin' for quite a few of the coming chapters. I have a lot in store for you all.

* * *

**:Rectitude:**

**:Chapter Three:**

**:The Best Birthday:**

* * *

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace at the Burrow. He still wasn't used to floo travel. 

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" came the thunderous call from the kitchen, startling Harry. He looked to the source of the noise and saw a multitude of people standing under a banner with the motif 'Happy Sixteenth Birthday, Harry' cycling through the library of colors while crawling like a news ticker. To say he was shocked would be an understatement; he was floored. He stood there, his mouth gaping open, taking in all the sights before him: the banner, all the people, the pile of presents in the corner, the large cake with sixteen magical candles billowing emerald green flames with the smoke spelling 'Happy Birthday' in a constant loop, and the smiles, the atmosphere, that's the thing that surprised Harry the most; he was _home_.

"Well don't just stand there, Harry, dear, let's get this celebration started," said Mrs. Weasley as she went over to Harry and gave him a welcoming embrace. Harry was still standing there, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to say something.

"Stop imitating a goldfish and come greet your friends, Harry, mate," said Fred and George in a mock duet style. This broke Harry out of his shock and he gave Mrs. Weasley and the twins a large smile. "That's more like it," said George as Fred gave Harry a friendly handshake.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," said a familiar voice from behind Harry. It was Ginny. She was wearing a strange robe, with a peridot encrusted on the right arm and a ruby on the left, giving it a strange sense of propriety. And now that he thought about it... _everyone_ was wearing a robe identical to the one Ginny had.

"What's with the identical robes?" asked Harry, looking inquisitively at Hagrid, who looked extremely odd in a robe of this nature.

"To celebrate your birthday, Harry. We thought it would be a nice gesture to wear identical robes with a peridot on the right and a ruby on the left. The arms represent East and West, and the precious stones represent the months. Peridot is August, ruby is July. Thus, since your birthday is on the last of July, the month of July is considered a setting sun in the west, and the peridot signifies that you are near the beginning of August," said Dumbledore, who had just come up to him and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

The mention of the end of July brought back the memory of the Prophecy and its implications. Harry nodded sadly, while Dumbledore gave him a sympathetic look.

"It was Dumbledore's idea. I thought he was nutters, myself," said Ron, coming up from behind Ginny.

"Ronald!" came the indignant cry from Hermione who appeared from behind Dumbledore, "Professor Dumbledore is _not_ nutters."

After this little exchange, Dumbledore began chuckling and told Ron and Hermione that it was okay. He said one could never be _too_ normal. This caused Harry to have a mental snort as he thought about the Dursley's. While he was thinking this, Hermione came up to him and hugged him, and said, "Happy Birthday, Harry. You deserve this party."

To say Harry was shocked at the emotion in Hermione's voice, let alone the single tear that dropped from her eyes, would be an understatement. This increased his resolve to what he had to do. He'd have to talk about it with Ron and Hermione, though. That was the only way he could _truly_ do this.

Did Harry think he was shocked? No, he was not shocked at all. This seemed like a normal occurrence in his not normal life. This shock paled in comparison to the one where Ron separated them from their hug, and gave Harry another. "Your my best friend, Harry," said Ron as he squeezed Harry more tightly, showing his friendship and loyalty in the simple gesture. Harry felt a momentous feeling come upon him that could only be described as massive elation. His mind was set free. He was not held accountable by his friends for the danger to their lives that Harry had shown them. He was not blamed for their endangerment. He felt like he was floating in pure joy. He was free. _Free_.

His eyes began to burn with the signs of tears. He was so happy. He could feel the love in the room for him, the sheer admiration of him by everyone. His tears began to flow; his eyes glistening brilliantly in the warming dusk light filtering through the windows nearby. The room quieted down as they looked at him. They seemed to sadden at his tears, thinking them to be tears of sadness, contrary to the feeling that was truly behind them.

"Thank you," said Harry as he looked around the room, his eyes still glistening with the light. "Thank you," he repeated. "You all have no idea how much this means to me... I--I've never had a birthday party before."

Mrs. Weasley gave a cry of sympathy and went back over to Harry and embraced him in a rib crushing hug as tears started collecting in her eyes.

"It was the least we could do, Harry, dear," sobbed Mrs. Weasley into Harry's shoulder.

"Arghh!" exclaimed the twins as they wore a look of disgust. "Stop with the mushy stuff! This is a birthday _party_!" they said, mainly at their mother.

"You guys're right. So, who's going to introduce me to the cake?" asked Harry as he wiped his joyful tears from his eyes, wearing a sincere smile of gratitude. The response was a room full of laugher and mutual smiles.

* * *

Harry couldn't remember a time when he was happier than how happy he was right now. He still felt amazing, even though this magnificent day was coming to an end. He had never thought it possible to be the center of everyone's attention and enjoy it. In fact, for the first time in his life, he relished the attention. He felt like he was part of something bigger than himself, and he had unexplainable, euphoric joy in that fact. He felt as if he was giving the others some semblance of hope and contentment as he conversed with them, laughed with them, played games with them, and sang songs with them. The gifts he received lightened his heart, and made him temporarily forget his grief. 

Bill Weasley had given him a book titled 'Hieroglyphics and How To Read Them'. Charlie gave him a Hungarian Horntail tooth necklace.

Percy, who had apparently patched things up with his parents and the family, gave him a formal apology in letter form, and a striking platinum pen. Apparently the Ministry found pens to be more efficient in government work rather than quills. Percy had said that all Ministry issued pens had a golden M imbued on the north face of the pen. Harry's, however, had a golden H, then J, then finally a P vertically aligned, instead. Percy said he went directly to the maker of the pens and just mentioned Harry's name and the pen was ready the next hour.

The twins gave him a more... what would be an appropriate word? Satirical! That's it. They gave him a more satirical gift. That didn't dissuade the practicality of their gift, though. He thought back on that gift. They gave him an official looking certificate that read:

**Weasley's** **WizardWheezes:**

_The progenitors of WWW, Fred and George Weasley, hereby grant Harry James Potter, first and foremost investor and friend of WWW, topmost immunity from all pranks, jokes, items, and any other item(s) to be produced in the lifetime of the aforementioned investor. Immunity commences when this certificate is signed by the involved parties._

_Harry saw the signatures of Fred and George at the bottom, and swiftly took his new platinum pen and signed his own name under the twins'. After he let off the pressure of the pen from the parchment, the contract disappeared in a poof of purple-pink smoke, causing Harry to cough slightly. Then, a strange weight was felt in Harry's right pocket. He stuck his hand into his pocket, grasped the strange item inside, then removed the item. It was a small, rectangular granite stone, highly polished, with the impression 'Inprankable-L' in the two inch thick stone._

_"This is going to be the most practical thing I'll ever have in my life," laughed Harry as he smiled brightly at the twins._

_"Too true," chorused the twins, laughing along with Harry._

_"What are you three going on about?" questioned Ron._

_"Do you have any Canary Creams, Ron?" asked Harry in return._

_"Yeah... Why?"_

_"Go get one," said Harry, smiling._

_"Alright..." said Ron as he went up to his room to retrieve his own personal stash of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He returned shortly with a few innocent looking snacks and handed them to Harry._

_"You're not going to eat those, are you?" asked Ron._

_"Watch me!" said Harry, a silly smile on his face. Ron tried to stop him but it was too late and Harry was already chewing the Canary Cream._

_"Harry! That's a real Canary Cream!" exclaimed Ron. Harry just stood there, a triumphant look on his face._

_"Great gift, guys," laughed Harry as he watched Ron practically dust the floor with his drooping chin._

_"But--but--but--bu-but," sputtered Ron, the intricacies of the event going over his head. The same couldn't be said for Hermione, however._

_"That's--that's--that's incredibly brilliant," she said, trying to contain her own shock at how complicated something like this was._

_"Why-"_

_"Thank-"_

_"You-"_

_"Her-"_

_"My-"_

_"Oh-"_

_"Knee," said the twins in quick succession, causing Hermione to glare at them both._

_"What _are _you all talking about?" demanded Ron._

_"Maybe when you're older, ickle Ronniekins!" said Fred._

_This was the last straw for Ron, and his face lit up, fighting for the dominance of brightness with his hair. This caused the twins to start guffawing, and Harry, Hermione, and Ginny, who had caught on just then, to laugh heartily at Ron's dilemma._

Breaking himself out of the flashback, Harry took another look at the gift Ron had given him.

It was a beautifully crafted wooden block, ten inches wide, two inches long, and three inches high. The base had intricate carvings in the brilliant mahogany slab, depicting wind currents, and on one side of the upright face was a sly **S** dyed with silver, and the other side had a regal looking **G** but with gold dye instead. The inlays had three poles protruding upward on the outward sides, each pole adorned by a circular hoop: Quidditch goals. In the middle of the block were three spherical objects: two Bludgers, and a Quaffle in the middle. Then, Harry caught sight of a flicker of gold. A miniature Snitch had been enclosed into a magical field around the wooden block so that the Snitch couldn't escape. He watched as the small Snitch zoomed around the mock Quidditch pitch. He looked at the front face and smiled at the inscription. It was a score imbued in gold lettering that read, '_Slytherin: 0 Gryffindor: 1150_'. On the bottom of the block, however, was a personal message for Harry.

_Happy Birthday, Harry.  
Always remember the laughter in life.  
Always remember the love in life.  
Always remember the sunrises.  
Always remember the sunsets.  
Never forget your memories of these things.  
They're the guide rails on the road to happiness.  
Ron_

Harry didn't know when Ron was enlightened enough to say something so encouraging, but Harry thought it would be for the better. It might have been a realization brought on by the incident at the Ministry. Maybe he could ask him tomorrow...

Sighing about those thoughts, he took Ginny's gift to him out of his pocket. He smiled at the long parchment. It was a student petition for the continuance of the DA. It was signed by all of the DA members, and was followed by some of the teachers signatures. McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid, and lastly, Dumbledore's loopy scrawl. Harry didn't know if he would do the DA this year or not. He couldn't decide if it would be necessary anymore, with Umbridge gone from the school. Seeing this parchment made him reconsider his answer, though, and he thanked Ginny very much for the gift.

He looked down at Hagrid's gift. An ornate wood carving, painted delicately with various colors. The paint must have been magical because they kept oscillating between the two extremes of color. It was also very polished, giving it a sheen of an expensive object one would find at an antique shop. Harry grew rather fond of it quickly, and would keep it close to him in years to come.

Harry set Hagrid's gift down on his night stand and picked up an official looking parchment off of his trunk. It read:

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
(Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorc., Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,  
_

_I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected as the new Gryffindor house Quidditch captain. Feel free to contact me with any questions you may have or with your declination of this captaincy. You will have some team spots to fill, so you must set a tryout date within a week of your arrival at school. All decisions you make for the team will be respected, unless there is reason to believe you have decided in a frivolous manner. Good luck with this coming endeavor. I'm sure you can lead the team to another victory._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress_

Harry simply beamed at the parchment, trying hard to contain his joy at the meaning behind the words. He was Quidditch captain! That meant his lifetime ban from Quidditch was null! He couldn't wait to go out on the pitch and fly on his Firebolt. It was one of the things Harry missed most when away from school, other than his friends.

Still smiling, he looked down toward the end of the bed where his trunk was currently lying. He looked at Dumbledore's gift again; it was a Pensieve, ornately decorated with numerous runes. It was a dull green color, and was currently empty. Harry thought it would be much more occupied by the end of the year. Dumbledore had also told him some wonderful news: Harry was to no longer be taught Occlumency by Snape, but Dumbledore. Harry nearly burst after that news. He was ecstatic that he wouldn't have to deal with Snape any more than necessary.

Hermione's gift was beautiful. She had given him a phoenix feather quill. He didn't even realize that a phoenix feather could be used as a quill. It was entrancing in its delicate beauty. The soft yet rigid edges of the feather, a deep crimson red, reminiscent of an enthralling sunset, surrounded the stunning red-yellow core, strikingly similar to a brilliant sunrise. It struck Harry as proper, seeing as how phoenix's represented death and rebirth. Like the sunset and sunrise, the phoenix fell with an effulgent diminishing, only to rise again from the dark ashes. The thought touched Harry, and he wasn't sure why.

Sighing at his thoughts, Harry set the feather down, taking one last glance at the brilliant colors. He'd have to thank Hermione for the gift. He'd have to thank everyone. It was all so much.

Harry glanced over at Ron, who was snoring loudly to a seemingly random rhythm. Harry took hold of his blanket and situated himself into a more comfortable sleeping position, giving him a strong sense of belonging at the same time. He closed his eyes while he felt the warmth of his body reverberate on the bed and come back to him in a reassuring way.

This was _home_.

* * *

**End (A/N):** I know this chapter probably seems like filler, but there are some things that will make a reappearance, and there are subtle... _hints_... to things that will be a major part of the climactic chapter. And by hints, I mean only I know what they are, and you'll only get it right by randomly guessing, since I gave no implications to anything. Until next time (which is soon!). 


End file.
